


The Lady and the Priest

by orphan_account



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Action/Adventure, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Magic, Martin Septim being Martin Septim, Murder, Romance, Slow Build, Violence, vengeance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9530168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It is expected from girls from wealthy and prestigious houses to be married off when they came of age to secure alliances between families. That is why they are prepared since their early childhood to become pleasant housewives, not warriors or mages. And with François Motierre's only daughter it wouldn't be different. However, when her suitor is poisoned by a Dark Brotherhood assassin, and she is the one charged, Aurane Motierre finds herself struggling to fight in an impossible battle she doesn't want to be part of to save the last Septim- and Tamriel itself.Fate is tricky, as always.





	1. A suitor for Aurane

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first attempt at both fanfiction and Elder Scrolls and frankly I have no idea what to expect. So, ever since I started Oblivion, I wondered what happened to François Motierre (like, the story behind the money lending and stuff). Also I have a slight obsession with Martin Septim thus coming up with this story. This story will have many Skyrim references but of course they will be accurate with the timeline :) I don't know where this is headed, but my original plan is to follow the events of the main quest, Dark Brotherhood and the Arena.
> 
> I also like the idea of having a heroine that came from a loving home and a 'normal' life, learning how to fight and survive alone (as much normal as someone related to the Motierres could be lol). I also took inspiration from Game of Thrones, which I think goes great with the Elder Scrolls series. This fic is rated T for violence, mention of adult themes and foul vocabulary. Also, excuse my spelling and grammar, for English is not my first language.
> 
> Enough with boring monogues and let's get started!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my first attempt at both fanfiction and Elder Scrolls and frankly I have no idea what to expect. So, ever since I started Oblivion, I wondered what happened to François Motierre (like, the story behind the money lending and stuff). Also I have a slight obsession with Martin Septim thus coming up with this story. This story will have many Skyrim references but of course they will be accurate with the timeline :) I don't know where this is headed, but my original plan is to follow the events of the main quest, Dark Brotherhood and the Arena.
> 
> I also like the idea of having a heroine that came from a loving home and a 'normal' life, learning how to fight and survive alone (as much normal as someone related to the Motierres could be lol). I also took inspiration from Game of Thrones, which I think goes great with the Elder Scrolls series. This fic is rated T for violence, mention of adult themes and foul vocabulary. Also, excuse my spelling and grammar, for English is not my first language.
> 
> Enough with boring monogues and let's get started!

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

After a night of restless sleep, I woke up. My head was heavy and my heart pounding fast. I couldn't sleep through the night because I was so excited. Today would be the day (or perhaps tomorrow) that I would finally meet my suitor. The man from the northern province of Skyrim father had arranged for me should arrive shortly.

Father hadn't told me too much about him, only that he was a Nord from a city called Whiterun in Skyrim, and that he was very wealthy. Father put a lot of emphasis on that word. My younger brother Basile kept teasing me saying Father couldn't wait to marry me off and pay off the debts he made to secure the dowry. I didn't believe a single word that venomous snake I had for a brother uttered, Father wouldn't need to borrow money, despite the difficulties, we had some stored.

After all, it was my duty to be married off to some lord to secure the family name and forge new alliances. That was what I've been told all my life. Ever since I remember, my father would tell me how important it is to get married, to look pretty all the time I left home, how important it was to find the right suitor, have children with him and help elevate the family name, even if I was not going to keep it.

I always knew that it wouldn't be difficult to find someone worthy of having a Motierre girl by their side, since my looks were pleasant to the eyes and my family had a long and prosperous history. My only purpose was to look pretty.

The biggest difficulty was to pay the dowry. We were not very well off recently, hardly making ends meet. Our shipments were being robbed, people were being murdered, but Father insisted that he had the money for a very good suitor and that I shouldn't worry about a thing. Being educated with the purpose of thinking that business were jobs for men, I didn't pay attention to anything other than my books. After all, my younger brother was the one currently in Hammerfell taking care of some affairs. Can't say I was not happy not to listen to his venom all day.

"Aurane?! Are you up?" I recognized my grandmother's voice from the other side of my bedroom door.

"I am, grandmother! I will be downstairs shortly!" I called out, jolting up from my bed.

"Hurry up, child." Grandmother continued, "Your suitor should arrive in no time!" The voice started to get fainter because the owner of it was moving away from the bedroom door. "Don't forget to look lovely!"

So it IS today, I thought to myself, as I made my way to my wardrobe. Today will definitely be a day to remember.

It would be a day to remember. But for a different reason.

I selected the prettiest set of garments I had at my disposal. It was a dark blue velvet dress, and it had matching shoes. Not the best set I ever had, but definitely the best in recent years… it would do the job. I always thought blue was my color.

Quickly, I dressed myself in front of the wall mirror and combed my hair gently. My long light brown hair tends to get tangled a lot after a night of tossing and turning in bed. Modesty apart, I looked quite lovely. Perfectly ready to be a wife.

"Aurane!" Grandmother called, this time entering the room and walking right behind me, "Asgar is here!" She was wearing a blue and green outfit, and her gray hair was tied in a simple bun on top of her head. She always insisted that the money we had should be used in grooming me up for potential suitors, and that meant buying pretty clothes.

"Who is that?" I questioned, turning to the old lady behind me. Her wrinkled face resting a pleasant smile. I was hardly even thinking straight, my hands were shaking and my palms sweating with expectation.

"Your suitor, child!" Grandmother laughed, "Come along, you don't want to cause a bad first impression!" She smoothed my dress so it would get rid of the wrinkles, "You look quite lovely, dear."

"Thank you." She smiled. I was floating with expectation, I waited all my life for this moment, and nothing would ruin it. Not even my selfish father.

"You remind me of myself when I first met your grandfather. I was quite excited as you are now." She giggled lightly. I knew her marriage with my grandfather was a very happy one, different from the one my parents had. Maybe because my father is a difficult person and my mother was always very ill, "Now let us go, shouldn't keep him waiting."

The elderly woman stood up and proceeded to leave, and I followed soon after. "How is he like?" I asked, hopefully.

"I don't know, haven't seen him yet. François told me only to bring you downstairs while he dealt with the commission."

That is not a good sign. "Commission?"

"Ah yes, the man had quite the escort party of mercenaries," She started, as we took slow steps towards the stairs, "The roads are dangerous these days. One needs to be careful."

Right…

When we finally got to the dining room, I finally took the first glimpse of my suitor.

At first, I couldn't distinguish who was my actual suitor, since there were five men at the entrance hall, talking to my father. Four of them wore heavy steel armor and only one wore fancy clothes, however.

My Nord suitor was big, and apparently very strong. But those were the only appealing traits to me.

He was old. Maybe 20 years older than me or more. His fair hair was already turning white at the roots prematurely, and his face was already wrinkling. Maybe life in the north does that to people…I couldn't help it to wonder if I will become old and ugly soon in Skyrim.

I tried to keep my smile on, to hide my disappointment. It is the thing I do best, fake emotions. I trained all my life how to behave in social situations. Even if I did not like him at first, I need to learn how to like him. I need to keep true to my family and duty as a woman. Father could at least find a more appealing husband for me, but I can't argue. My deceased mother agreed to marry him, after all.

"Mother, daughter, this is Asgar Grey-Mane." Father, in opposition to me, seemed very happy with my potential husband, "He came all the way from Skyrim just to meet us," Not quite happy, he seemed very proud, "Asgar Grey-Mane, these are my mother Cyrielle and my beautiful daughter Aurane."

Asgar took a step closer to me, as I extended my hand so he could politely kiss it. "A pleasure to meet you, Aurane." His light blue eyes made contact with my green ones for a moment. "Your father told me you were quite a beauty…and he wasn't mistaken at all."

"The pleasure is mine, sir." Upon having my hand released him the Nord, I bowed shortly. "And thank you for the compliments, you are too kind."

"Please, do seat down, we have much to discuss." My father gestured for Asgar to seat by his side at the small table we had, "Aurane my sweet, would you be so kind as to get some wine for our guest inside the basement?"

"Of course, father." I bowed lightly, smiling at my suitor, "Excuse me." I quickly made my way across the entrance hall to the basement door, so that I wouldn't have to be there while father discussed his affairs with Asgar. I also bid farewell to my grandmother, who left the house probably to gossip.

If we were better off with the finances, I wouldn't have to get up and get wine, we would have a servant do that for us, so that I could spend more time with my suitor, get to know him (and despite the age gap, maybe even develop affection for him).

But of course, since our shortage of money we cannot afford a servant or butler, which makes me the servant. I am not angry I have to do such chores when we have guests, for grandmother always says it is the process of becoming an acceptable wife.

Without thinking much, I sighed as I opened the basement door. That place always gave me the chills when I was a child.

Slowly I made my way to the wine racks, but to my surprise, one of Asgar's men was there, apparently searching for something, with his back turned to me. Weird, we do not have anything very valuable in the basement. "Excuse me, sir? May I help you?"

"Oh!" The mercenary exclaimed in obvious surprise, "Good thing you are here, you see, my employer only drinks mead from a certain meadery in Skyrim." The mercenary turned to me, which made me see that he, in fact, was a she. "And luckily for us, here is the last bottle of it!" She was fair-haired Breton girl, a bit older than me perhaps. She seemed a bit too young for a mercenary, "Here, take it and serve," She said, handing a blue bottle of mead I had never seen before.

I never knew Father kept Skyrim mead in his basement. I never knew Skyrim had a meadery that sold products to the capital province. And I've been a very assiduous student of Tamrielic geography and peculiarities such as those. Trading is the trade of my family.

This mercenary must be up to something, she might have slipped away from the others to look for valuables. Once I serve the mead to Asgar, I must tell Father about the Breton mercenary poking around in the basement.

I examined the bottle and shrugged, it said 'Black Briar Reserve'….never heard of that meadery, it might be new. Well, if my Nord suitor only drinks mead from Skyrim, who am I to argue? After all, I only want to impress him enough to become his wife. Father said he was a perfect match for me and that the Motierre family would greatly benefit from his new but thriving family farm and forge in Whiterun, and I cannot pass an opportunity to make my family proud of me. Oh, how I longed to leave Cyrodiil and visit the other provinces, but I never could because I had to stay home and learn how to sew, cook and sing. By marrying Asgar I would be able to travel and see new lands I had longed to.

I quickly came back from the basement and into the dining room with the bottle of mead in my hands. Father and Asgar were discussing about how talented Bretons were at sales and magic, and that father didn't treasure anything more than his family, going even further as to sell his own mother to keep his legacy alive. Meanwhile, the Nord's bodyguards' eyes followed my every step. I ignored them and poured the mead into two cups, one for father and one for Asgar.

I hope he is impressed already with me.

"You brought the drinks? Wonderful!" Father exclaimed, taking hold of both silver cups, then giving one to the Nord. "I told you, Asgar. Aurane is very much ready to become your wife."

"Her charm and grace are definitely no match for the girls back in Skyrim." Asgar agreed, "If everything goes as planned, we will be husband and wife soon." I smiled sweetly. Finally.

"If it depends on me, you can take her right now." Father chuckled. Asgar laughed heartedly, and surprisingly enough didn't spill his mead. I smiled, even though that comment was offensive.

"I propose a toast," Asgar lifted his cup, "To the union of the Gray-Mane and Motierre families!"

Father lifted his cup as well, and their drinks smashed together. Asgar proceeded to drink his mead, while I leaned towards my Father's ear before he could drink the mead. I know it is rude not to drink at the same time after toasting, but this was important, the mercenary downstairs could be up to something, "I need to tell you something." I whispered.

"Anything dear,"

"There is a mercenary down at the basement-!" Before I could say anything else, Asgar started choking.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What do you think? The beginning is kind of slow but it won't be long before exciting things start to happen! I can't wait to see where Aurane will take us! I very much appreciate feedback and comments :D Thank you for reading!


	2. Poison is a woman's weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is expected from girls from wealthy and prestigious houses to be married off when they came of age to secure alliances between families. That is why they are prepared since their early childhood to become pleasant housewives, not warriors or mages. And with François Motierre's only daughter it wouldn't be different. However, when her suitor is poisoned by a Dark Brotherhood assassin, and she is the one charged, Aurane Motierre finds herself struggling to fight in an impossible battle she doesn't want to be part of to save the last Septim- and Tamriel itself.
> 
> Fate is tricky, as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back with another chapter! Thank you for the kudos!! I really appreciate it!  
> Without further ado, let’s proceed.  
> ~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

“I propose a toast,” Asgar lifted his cup, “To the union of the Gray-Mane and Motierre families!”

Father lifted his cup as well, and their drinks smashed together. Asgar proceeded to drink his mead, while I leaned towards my Father’s ear before he could drink the mead. I know it is rude not to drink at the same time after toasting, but this was important, the mercenary downstairs could be up to something, “I need to tell you something.” I whispered.

“Anything dear,” 

“There is a mercenary down at the basement-!” Before I could say anything else, Asgar started choking violently.

I moved away from my father in surprise to look at my suitor.

“My Lord?” One of the mercenaries closest to Asgar asked, looking very worried.

The Nord smiled, hitting his own chest with his right hand closed, “I am quite, koff, alright.” I smiled as well. Just a simple choke, nothing to worry about. I rarely drink alcohol mainly because my throat burns and I choke. The weird thing is that a brute mead-loving Nord such as Asgar would cough. The man drank more of his mead, probably to stop the chokes. “See, koff, a Nord never chokes with koff koff, alcohol, koff koff koff…”

While we are here, I might as well get to know my suitor and his homeland, because if we really are going to be wed, I want to know what I will be dealing with in a new province, “Lord Asgar, could you tell me a bit more about Skyrim? Is it anything like the Imperial province?”  
I hope there are balls to attend, and many opportunities to dance. Dancing is the one thing I love in my life, and since it is often used to impress possible suitors, I’ve been dancing all my life. I am confident enough to say that I am a very good dancer. I wonder, does Asgar know how to dance? It would be very comical to see a brute Nord dancing gracefully in the Cyrodiilic fashion. If he does not know, maybe I can teach him.

Marrying that man wouldn’t be so bad, after all. 

A couple of months ago my father, brother and I attended a ball in the Countess’ castle in my hometown, Chorrol. I danced so many times, and with so many different dance partners that night, but one Dunmer lad in particular liked it so much to the point of asking for my hand in marriage. He lived in Cheydinhal and he was very sweet, but my father, of course declined the offer, saying that Men and Mer do not mix.

“Not quite, koff…It is more rural and, koff, much colder.” He replied, while extending his silver cup to me, so I would pour more mead. Does every Nord drink like that? If I am able to bear him children, I will have to be careful with that. “I can’t koff…breathe koff…” Asgar continued to speak, but this time his voice was dry. In an attempt to gasp for air, the man fell off the chair, scratching his throat with his nails.

By accident I let the bottle of mead I was still holding fall to the floor and shatter completely, letting all of it’s content spill on the beautiful carpet.

“He is turning red!” One of the mercenaries observed. I could only stay there, motionless, beside the table as the Nord gasped for air. His eyes widened in terror.

I watched as the mercenaries screamed at each other. One of them kicked the table far enough to be able to assist Asgar. Everything that was on top of it fell to the floor, soaking the floor.

Watched as my suitor’s nails scratched his throat, and small bleeding cuts started to appear. His legs kicked everything close by.

I lost my composure at that. I screamed loudly, bringing my hands to my mouth. I saw my entire future slipping away from me right there.

“Help him!” Father yelled to everybody and nobody at the same time, “Turn him around and knock him on the back!” Just like me, he just stood there motionless. 

We are Bretons, and as such we have a natural higher understanding of magic, but no one in my house knows spells of any college of magic. When I was a child, I took trips to the Mages Guild next door to learn spells. It was all fun at first when I learned how to cast simple healing and flare spells, but when father found out, he forbade me from casting anything, saying ‘Ladies should never be mages. Your future husband expects many things of you, and burning down his house with a spell isn’t one of them’, so since then I never casted anything. Not even a healing spell. How difficult must it be to cast a healing hands spell now? I concentrated hard, but nothing happened.  
I must have forgotten all the spells I knew as a child.

“Don’t stand there watching! Get the man some water!” Father urged harshly to me, his voice hispid with urgency. His harsh words finally made me move and fetch some water.

Quickly, I ran to the cabinet in the other side of the entrance hall and grabbed a silver jar with water inside. My hands were shaking so much with fear that I almost tripped over my own feet and dress.

I returned as fast as I could, and to my horror, Asgar’s face was purple from lack of air and soaking in sweat. His once beautiful blue eyes were glassy with tears and fear. His mercenaries yelled and tried to make him wake up, but the Nord only convulsed, like a fish taken out of the water. One of them took the water jar from my shaking hands and poured it on top of the Nord’s head. No use. The man still convulsed frenetically, his arms and legs flowed around in a way sick to see.

I was immobilized by fear, and I didn’t notice when warm and salty tears ran down my face.

“He is going to die!” Father yelled, “I’m going to get help!” He ran out of the scene and reached for our front door, but before he could leave, two city guards stormed into the house, shoving my father aside. 

“What is all that noise-!” One of the guards (the talles) questioned before noticing what was happening in the dining room of the house. 

Once the two guards approached Asgar, whose face was almost black by now, the Nord stopped convulsing, and his body fell limp into the arms of one of his mercenaries’ arms. 

Loyal to their Lord until the last minute.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Asgar was dead. He died right there. Right in front of me…and I couldn’t do anything. Blasted incompetence! Choking to death, that must have been horrible. I had never seen death so close. And I never thought I’d have to.

My vision started to get blurry with tears and I almost lost my balance. I leaned my back towards a wall in an attempt of not passing out. It didn’t help, so I sat down against the wall, hugging my knees, rocking myself back and forth.

“We were too late.” The first guard observed, kneeling beside the corpse. “May he rest in peace.” He closed Asgar’s dead eyes gently.

“What is this smell?” The second guard sniffed a bit into the liquid on the floor where I had dropped the bottle of mead, “Smells like…chokeberry.” 

“Poisoned mead!” One of the mercenaries exclaimed, “Lord Asgar was poisoned!”

“It were the hosts!” A second mercenary accused, pointing his sword at my father’s throat. The guards watched.

“It was not me!” Father exclaimed in fear, eyeing the blade on his neck, his arms above his head in surrendering, “I did not fetch the mead. I didn’t even remember having mead in store!”

Everyone inside the room eyed me.

Oh no. Divines help me.

I didn’t even think the blame would eventually find me. All the evidence pointed to me. I served the poisoned mead unknowingly. I got it in the basement.

“So it was the girl!” The mercenary that had his blade to my father’s neck turned to me. I wasn’t paying too much attention due to the horror I felt. I still rocked myself back and forth trying to soothe myself…in vain.

“No, please!” I hid my face between my knees, crying, “One of you gave the mead to me, downstairs!” I raised my head, eyeing the mercenaries. My voice was cracking due to my desperation. “In the basement! I swear!” This time I eyed the guards, “A fair haired Breton woman!”

“We don’t have any women in our commission.” The mercenary holding Asgar’s corpse observed. “And no Bretons.”

“She was there!” I sobbed, “I swear by the Nine!” 

“Liar!” The one with the sword unsheathed rushed over to me and pulled me up by my right arm. His fair Nord face was separated from mine by mere inches, menacingly. His eyes locked with mine, his pupils dilated, and his green irises seemed to burn with hate. 

I just stared back, shaking from head to toes, “Father, make him stop!”

“Let her go! That is not the proper way to treat a lady!” Despite my father and the mercenary’s enormous difference in height and muscular form, the Breton came up to me, but once he saw the mercenary’s furious expression, backed away, “She is innocent until it is proven otherwise.”

“Indeed,” One of the guards agreed, “We will check the basement for the said Breton woman.” He gestured to the other one to follow, and went downstairs, “No one leaves the house.”

“You know there is no Breton woman in there, girl.” The mercenary hissed in my ear.

As quickly as they left, the guards came back. “There is no one inside the basement.”

I felt what would happen to me. I was going to be charged for the murder. And rot in the dreadful prison. The Breton girl was real, and she orchestrated everything. She wanted Asgar dead and walk away unpunished, blaming someone else for the murder. Why would someone murder Asgar is beyond me.

“Father please!” I pleaded between sobs, “Do something!” The brute holding me tightened the grip into my arm. I shrieked in pain. “It must have been the Dark Brotherhood!”

“You are mad, girl! They don’t even exist.” The tallest guard said, “It is only an urban legend.”

The smaller guard eyed me from my head to toes, “Are you sure your daughter is sane?” 

Father didn’t reply. 

“In that case, we will have to arrest her until an official investigation is made.” The taller guard eyed the mercenary who held me, making the brute let me go, “Come with me.” Both guards proceeded to make their way to door, taking me with them, “You will be provisory held in the Imperial prison.” 

“Papa!?” I glanced backwards to face him, “You won’t let them take me, right?”

“I can’t do anything right now, Aurane.” He believes that I murdered Asgar!? “The competent authorities will handle this.”

“It was not me, I swear!” I exclaimed, in a failed attempt not to get arrested, “It was the blond Breton!”

“There is no blond Breton!” Father spat out, “Maybe you have gone mad after all.” He shook his head in disapproval, “Make sure Asgar’s body is returned to Skyrim.” He addressed the mercenaries.

How can he not believe me? The man who raised me? The man who supposedly knows I couldn’t hurt anyone. The man who knows I have zero knowledge of alchemical ingredients… Father thinks I’ve gone mad… I fought back the last remaining tears before I was led out of the house and into the streets of Chorrol.

My watery eyes burned with the shinning sunlight. I cleaned my runny nose with my dress’ sleeve. The dress smelled like mead and sweat.

My house was located in the Great Oak place, which means that people normally would be gathered there to gossip, but today everyone who lived in the city gathered there at the exact moment I left my house. Probably curious about the commotion. 

Everyone stared at me making my way to the city gates. I knew exactly where the guards would take me. Through the Black Road straight to the Imperial prison. It is not very far to go by foot, but if I am lucky enough, I would go by chariot. But of course I was a prisoner, and prisoners don’t get such treatment.

“It’s the Motierre girl…” Someone started.

“I wonder what happened.”

I held my head low while I walked between the guards, trying to ignore what the people said, “I heard she poisoned a lord from Skyrim!”

“Treacherous little snake that one. The whole lot of the Motierres.”

Even if I were to be absolved for Asgar’s murder, the rumors of my supposed madness will spread and I will never find a husband and honor my family. What would be of me? A lady without a lord? What will be my purpose? Divines, why? Stendarr have mercy.

“It is good to finally see those guards working.”

“Aurane?” Now that was a voice I knew- Grandmother. I struggled to make my eyes remain open. Indeed it was my grandmother, “Aurane!!” She tried to get close to me but was unable to do so by the guard on my right.

“Step aside, old woman! Official business!” The said guard shoved her away.

Grandmother kept following. I don’t know what she wants to achieve, but it is no use. “Do you know who you dealing with? A Motierre!”

“So you are one of the Countess’ friends?” The second guard eyed her, mockingly, “The Countess does not have much influence in the Capitol.”

“I will be alright, Grandmother.” I sighed, “Please go home.”

“I will take you out as soon as I can.” She assured, “I promise!”

I kept glancing backwards, in a secret hope that grandmother wouldn’t leave me to my own fortune in the hands of the city guard, but she stood still while I walked the way of shame to the city’s gate.

Oh how I loved to stroll in the streets of Chorrol, enter the shops and gossip… I doubt I will ever see the city again.

After some minutes walking, we reached the city’s gates, where to my surprise, an ugly wooden roofed chariot was waiting, guarded by Imperial guards. Not the ones that bore the Great Oak symbol of Chorrol. The Legionaires in full steel plate mail are from the capitol. 

One of the capitol guards opened the back door of the chariot. “A pleasant chariot ride to the lady.” The only window on said door had iron bars on it. Inside the vehicle, I could see a black and white Khajiit wearing fancy clothes and a green modestly dressed Argonian, seated on opposite wooden benches inside the wagon. Both of them wore handcuffs. Typical. Whenever a crime is committed those races are automatically charged. “Inside. Quick.” The Imperial guard that opened the door to me rushed, “The quicker you get inside the quicker we get to the capitol.”

I entered the wagon swiftly and sat beside the Argonian. The door closed and locked behind me with a loud noise. The chariot smelled like dead animals. The two other prisoners eyed me suspiciously, as I crouched in the corner near the window with my back to the front of the wagon, hugging my knees and letting my hair cover my face. From there I could observe a little of the outside from the barred window, a painful sight to see. Once again I blinked back my tears and cleaned my runny nose with the hem of the dress.

Why am I preoccupied? I didn’t kill Asgar, and the investigators would prove my innocence soon enough. Or Father will pay my fine. The one that happens first. He will help his daughter, right? 

Just as the guard said, quickly enough the chariot began to move. The pace in which it moved was indeed really quick. The horses who pulled the wagon must be almost running. 

What is the hurry to transport criminals?

“What are you in for, Breton?” The Khajiit tried to chat, “You don’t seem the kind of scum that gets arrested.” I didn’t even look at him as he spoke, “You do have a wealthy aura.”

“Why do you care?” I retorted. How I hate the Elsweyr accent.

“I don’t.” I could almost feel the shrugging, “Just asking so we can get acquainted. Maybe we can be cell buddies.”

While I am in here, might as well talk for a while, “What are you in for, Khajiit?” I turned to face him. 

I had never really seen one of the cat folk of Elsweyr, exactly because I have been told they were filthy pickpockets and skooma dealers. 

“Skooma dealing.” He laughed heartedly. I felt even more frightened after that laugh.

“So the rumors about skooma and Khajiits were true.” I observed, “And you?” I eyed the lizard. His eyes were closed and his arms were crossed at his chest.

“Theft.” He didn’t open his eyes, “Stole scrolls from the Mages Guild.” He explained, “I could sell them for double the price in Valenwood.” He sighed, “I would be halfway there by now.”

“If you hadn’t been caught.” The Khajiit observed. 

“Of course.” The Argonian finally opened his eyes and rolled them at the cat. They were deep red. “Those bastards can run fast.”

“Shut up back there!” Some guard yelled from the front of the wagon. Probably the one leading us.

“You haven’t told us what you are in for, Breton lady.” The Khajiit pressed on. I was a lady, but what am I now? A magicless Breton going to prison for a murder I didn’t commit.“Khajiit only wants to know.”

I turned around and crouched again in the same position as before, “Murder.” I just want this to end.

“Who did you murder? A harasser? A suitor?” Honestly, I won’t bother replying anymore.

“I bet she melted his face with magic…”

While the two talked amongst themselves, I cried softly, eyeing the landscape until I fell asleep.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Asgar died and Aurane is currently on her way to the Imperial prison. I kind of hoped François would be a bit more understanding and help his daughter…but what can we expect from someone who sold their own mother to the Dark Brotherhood so that he could fake his death? Speaking of Dark Brotherhood, did anyone recognize the blond Breton in the basement? I hope you have enjoyed the chapter :)))))) More chapters will come by (hopefully) soon.  
> ~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

**Author's Note:**

> So? What do you think? The beginning is kind of slow but it won't be long before exciting things start to happen! I can't wait to see where Aurane will take us! I very much appreciate feedback and comments :D Thank you for reading!


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